Category Archives: Journal

xci

Some idle theorising… Writing, the way I’ve lived it, is like breathing. Poetry or the lyrics I fumbled with that were my first self-aware writings, were like a held breath, a single breath held in as I tried to grasp … Continue reading

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Some of my brightest memories are from the acting I’ve done, at school, at university. It all felt so natural – I never had stage fright, the lines always came, my confidence on stage always several levels of tonnage higher … Continue reading

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lxxxix

I’ve hung on to a lot of loss. Some moments in particular are still so clear that I can, for instance, summon up the image of my favourite toy as a toddler going down the plughole after a bath and … Continue reading

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lxxxviii

In my first year at secondary school (I was about 15) I sat in the canteen and tried to convince my friends of the fantastic benefits that being a-sexual would bring. I had a whole concept, a fantastical made up … Continue reading

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There’s something hot and heavy about a final draft. I was editing a ghost story I’d written before Christmas, in the final few hours of a week’s work, juggling the things I needed to finish in the office with putting … Continue reading

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lxxxvi

Since we found out that my wife is pregnant, there have been two responses which have surprised me. One, the ‘Well Done!’ feels amusingly inappropriate, as if the person is uncomfortably saying, ‘So you managed to figure out where it … Continue reading

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lxxxv

I had a fantastic hour in the studio last night, returning to write a story I’d struggled with before. Today, I spent the entire journey into work telling myself the arc of the three parts of the story as I … Continue reading

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